


The Game

by cadey (haekass)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Hogwarts Seventh Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 05:53:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19457713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haekass/pseuds/cadey
Summary: Just a game between friends.





	The Game

**Author's Note:**

> Written... 2002ish. Once again, reposted so that people who may remember the fic from before the ffnet purge can read it again.
> 
> Special thanks to Liss who came up with the "Oh God, does it fit" line, and pointed out a few mistakes when I sent it to her.

The seventh year Gryffindors held court in the far right corner of the library around a massive table which looked to be made completely out of books and rolls of parchment, since no visible trace of the top was left uncovered. They were joined by what seemed to be every other seventh year from every single House, each claiming territory in a different area. The Hufflepuffs were near the center of the library, almost constantly under the watchful eyes of Madame Pince. Ravenclaws had trooped to the upper level on the right side, just out of hearing range, while the Slytherins were also on the upper level, but situated on the left corner. Everyone was studying for one thing: the NEWTs.

Hermione had managed to get the other Gryffindors to start studying in the library three days ago, but it looked as if the other Houses had all caught onto the idea as well. There were a few minor territorial disputes in the morning between the Slytherins and Gryffindors, but they were quickly settled by Madame Pince who directed those two Houses to their current positions.

They had all been studying since breakfast, and as it was after three, Hermione knew that she had hit her limit of studying for the day. Besides, she had been studying for the NEWTs now for over a month. She was merely brushing up on a few facts while everyone else was studying most of the bulk material. Throwing down her quill, she stretched, absently rubbing her stomach, which was now notifying her that it required sustenance.

"I'm going to get something to eat, then I plan to enjoy the rest of my Saturday," she informed them quietly.

Ron mock-gaped at her. "You mean you aren't going to stay in here and continue to study with the rest of us poor souls?"

Hermione glared at her best friend, who grinned back, unrepentant.

"Perhaps if we 'poor souls' had started studying sooner, we'd be able to goof off as well," another voice said. Hermione looked at her other best friend and smiled. Gathering up the last of her things, she leaned down and touched her lips to Harry's cheek briefly, already expecting and welcoming the warm rush of feelings. Then she was off without a backward glance.

She didn't see Harry's open-eyed, open-mouthed shocked expression that froze him to the spot while his Housemates laughed (quietly, so as not to get thrown out by Madame Pince).

Lavender stopped giggling long enough to catch her breath. "That was priceless, just the expression on your face, Harry..." She trailed off into a fresh round of giggles.

Ron nodded and grinned even more widely at the dark look Harry sent them. He wondered if Hermione would have the same gob-smacked expression on her face if Harry were ever to do that to her. His eyes lit up as an amusing and intriguing dare formed in his mind. His best friends had always maintained that they were just that - best friends. But he had seen the looks, the lingering touches, noticed when they went on walks alone. He knew that they both wanted to be more than friends, but were quite afraid of alienating him. He had given up his crush on Hermione a few months after their fifth year started, and their friendship had never been better. They still fought, of course, but now it was tempered with affection for a close friend - an almost-sibling.

"I bet that you wouldn't do that back to her, mate."

Harry's green eyes shot up from his parchment as if they had been burned. "What?"

Ron smirked. "I said 'I bet that you wouldn't do that back to her, mate.'"

"I heard you the first time."

"Then why did you ask me to repeat myself?"

Harry mumbled something, and then stared back down at his parchment, the only visible sign that Ron was getting to him was told glaringly by a telltale red flush spreading up into his cheeks.

"Are you backing down from a dare?" Ron taunted gently.

When Harry's eyes met his again, they held a blatant stubbornness - one that kept him from refusing a dare, but it also kept him from admitting to feeling anything for Hermione besides friendship. "I wasn't aware that it constituted a dare."

"I dare you, Harry Potter, to kiss Hermione Granger just as she did to you." He paused for a moment. "That enough of a dare for you?"

"You're on." Harry stood and walked quickly out of the library, not noticing several female glances lingering on him, envying the fluid gracefulness he moved with. He looked right and left, not seeing Hermione anywhere. Going off of what she had said, he turned left, towards the kitchens and ran down the hallway, looking for Hermione.

He found her waling along ahead of him, and he mentally congratulated himself for being able to find her. If she wanted to be, she was far tougher to chase than a Snitch was. Slowing down his break-neck running into an easy loping jog, then slowing into a walk as he neared her, he breathed deeply a couple of times, gathered his courage, and took the dare.

Hermione froze as she felt a pair of lips come into contact with her cheek. The warm rush she only associated with Harry flooded through her system unexpectedly, leaving her dazed.

Harry chuckled to himself as he sped back up into a loping jog in front of her. Her expression was fairly priceless, her brown eyes wide, her mouth parted slightly, standing there frozen in the middle of the hallway.

She blinked once, twice, then a third time to make sure her mind wasn't playing a trick on her. It *was* Harry in front of her, Harry who was looking awful smug, Harry who had just kissed her in the exact same spot she had just kissed him in.

Since both he and Hermione had been raised in a Muggle background, he knew that she would know the meaning behind the words that slid out of his mouth.

"You're it."

The game started right then.

Later on that night, after dinner and the ensuing study session, Hermione managed to plant another kiss on Harry, this time on the top of his head before she bolted up the steps and into her Head Girl dormitory. As soon as the door shut behind her, she doubled over in a fit of the giggles. Now he was "it."

The game went on for another two days before *it* happened. Both Harry and Hermione thought it great fun and a good distraction when studying became too much, for they would simply think about the next kiss or wonder when they would receive one back in retaliation. The other Gryffindors were somewhat privy to the game, but kept any mention of it to themselves. None of them wanted to face a furious Ron. Hermione had given him a kiss on his chin to wake him up - Merlin alone knew how she snuck into the boy's dormitory without waking anyone else - then scampered off, and now he was wondering when to deliver his in return. The unspoken rule of the game was to return the kiss in the exact same spot it had been delivered in. He had waited until after dinner to deliver the latest tag-kiss.

Hermione had gone up to her dormitory earlier, claiming a slight headache that she wanted to be rid of. Harry waited for almost an hour before 'remembering' something he needed from his dormitory. Anyone who noticed him walking up the wrong staircase said nothing aloud. Stopping just in front of her door, he gently turned the knob and opened it, peeking inside. She was lying down on her four-poster, the curtains on the bed not drawn, allowing the gentle light to come in, so she could read. He felt his breath hitch for a second. She looked so beautiful sitting there, a thankfully thin book in her delicate hands, the light shining off her brown hair, faithfully following the soft lines of her face. She sighed heavily and closed the book, falling backwards onto her pillows, leaving the book sitting on her bed. One of her arms came up to rest over her head, pulling her jumper tight across her chest.

He almost closed the door right then. That sight of Hermione was enough to make him start thinking of no-so-friendly thoughts. But when he saw that her eyes were closed, he crept in, careful not to make the slightest noise. Just as he got to the side of her bed, Hermione suddenly moved, pulling her pillow and pelting him with it. Her laughter floated on the air as he mock-glared at her, his glasses slightly askew.

"Think that's funny, do you?"

Hermione laughed and nodded.

Grabbing another pillow, he swung it at her, laughing as she yelped. She swung back, and neither stopped until they were both on the carpeted floor, half-heartedly swinging the pillows at each other in between bouts of incapacitating laughter. Harry swung the pillow once more, laughing as his arm landed on the other side of her body, until he saw just how close he was to Hermione. He could give her the kiss back, then run for it, provided that he wasn't laughing.

Leaning forwards, his lips were less than an inch from her skin, when she moved her head down just a fraction to look at him.

They both froze as his lips came into contact with hers. Their eyes were wide, staring into each other’s as their lips refused to break contact. Finally, Harry did pull back, his green eyes still wide, his breathing a bit erratic, wondering what was going to happen now.

"Your turn," he whispered into the silence before getting up and walking out of her dormitory, leaving a still stunned Hermione on the carpet, clutching one pillow and another resting right beside her.

It took Hermione a restless night of not sleeping to decide what to do. She would continue with the game. Kissing Harry was something that she had been secretly longing to do for some time now, but she wasn't sure how it would affect everything. The game made it much simpler. He had kissed her on the mouth, even though done unintentionally, it meant that she had to do the same to him. Her shower time was spent muttering to herself, working out plans, wondering when she would kiss Harry back.

Hurriedly dressing, running a brush through her hair, she threw on her uniform and robes, grabbed her books and dashed down the stairs, the mutterings from the closed doors telling her that most everyone else was still getting ready for the day. She froze at the bottom of the stairs, seeing her quarry sitting on one of the couches. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, his hands were folded neatly on his lap, his books were sitting beside him on another cushion, and the most perfect of all, his head was tipped back on the back of the couch, his eyes closed as if he were napping.

Creeping over to him, and setting her books down on the floor, she barely gave him any warning before framing his face in her hands and crashing her lips into his.

His eyebrows rose in shock, but his eyes stayed shut. Her eyes fluttered shut of their own violation, but she could feel his surprise and - joy - at her continuance of their game in the way his mouth curved ever so slightly at the corners. She held the kiss longer than he had, only breaking it off when she heard Ron's distinctive footfalls coming down the stairs. Pulling back, her breath came a little faster than normal. Harry's eyes opened and drilled into hers, stealing even more of her breath.

"My turn?"

His voice - oh, Merlin - why hadn't she ever noticed his *voice* before? It was a rumbling baritone, and right then it held something very rich in it - like the finest dark chocolate - that sent a shiver down her spine and rendered her mute. Nodding silently, she gathered her books from the floor and walked a bit unsteadily out the portrait hole.

He licked his lips and tasted Hermione on them. He knew that her taste would be something he would crave. Sometime today, he would deliver another kiss to her. Sometime soon, he amended to himself.

It took three hours. After their classes were let out until after lunch, he knew that she would immediately head for the library to study a bit more. He finally found her in one of the more secluded sections of the library, standing, but her back towards him, leaning over a table, muttering to herself. Clearing his throat, he knew that he looked quite amused when she spun around to face him.

Moving quickly, he only had to take two steps to her before pulling her close and pulling her into a kiss, one of his hands cupping the back of her head while the other rested on the small of her back, keeping her close against him. To make this kiss different, he parted his lips slightly and swiped his tongue over her lips. He wasn't expecting her surprised gasp to part her lips, allowing him access to her sweet mouth. He felt her hands move across his back, keeping herself close to him, letting him know that this - game - wasn't just one-sided. Swiping his tongue against hers, he felt more than heard her sigh as she relaxed further into the kiss.

Pulling away, he had to grin at her mew of disappointment, and feel some satisfaction when he saw the blush in her cheeks. Taking a step back, he was very thankful that their robes were worn loose, since he felt his body reacting to hers. He knew how she affected him - he didn't want everyone else to know it too. Giving her a wink, he walked out of the library as quietly as he had come in.

Their game was now all that either one could think of - Hermione drifted off in the middle of Transfiguration, Harry nearly lost points every time they were in Potions, they simply could not get enough of their game. Hermione had started the practice of adding a caress by accidentally (or not) running her hand down Harry's back during one of her kisses. It continually amazed her that after sharing well over forty kisses with Harry, each one still left a different imprint on her mind. They were gently sweet, hotter than the fire in the common room, as familiar to her as breathing. She wondered if the game would ever stop, and felt a brief pang of fear - fear that the only way the game would stop were to be if Harry were not around, if they ever stopped being friends, and the most chilling fear of all - the fear that she would never again taste Harry on her lips.

She woke up on Saturday morning with those thoughts in her mind. Lying in her bed, she turned and looked at the clock, which still read 'Too Early To Be Up.' Throwing her arm up over her head, she stared at her canopy and thought about the full implications of the game - implications that she had not thought of before - before she had a taste of everything. Now she craved. There was an ever-present ache low in her stomach - an ache that had been building over the previous four days, and she felt the proof that Harry was definately thinking of her as much more than a friend in his dizzying kisses. But did she see him as more than a friend? When she thought of Ron, a warm, content feeling slipped over her - but it was almost as if she were seeing only shades of gray. She knew Ron's hair was bright red, knew that his eyes were hazel, knew that his skin was fair, prone to burning if he stayed too long in the sun, and was covered in freckles - but it seemed as if he were duller, like a shadow had been cast over him. When she thought of Harry - every time his name came up in conversation - it felt as if her ears had been blasted by hot salsa music, every nerve ending came alive, and it felt as if she had just landed in Oz - seeing color for the first time. Harry's eyes were greener, his hair darker, his skin smoother, everything about him was gloriously *alive.*

Her eyes closed as her body reacted strongly, sending a wave of pleasure through her so intense, she decided that it was a good thing she was still lying down. *Well,* she thought, *that answers the question of whether or not I see Harry as only a friend.*

She would be content - exhilarated - if their game never ended, and wound up going far beyond just kisses and a few clothed caresses. It was her turn to kiss him and a small, secretive smile curved her lips. Today was a perfect day to study more, since the NEWTs started Monday morning, and she had the perfect way to wake Harry up.

Leaping out of bed with an energy she rarely displayed so early in the morning, she rummaged through her wardrobe, looking for the perfect outfit to wear. A quick glance outside at the rising sun told her that it would most likely be warm, so she had best wear something light and airy. Sitting in the bottom of her wardrobe was the perfect thing - a dazzling white shirt, loose enough to let air pass easily through, though tighter than what she normally wore. Pairing it with a plain school-uniform summer skirt, she slipped a pair of socks and her shoes on, gathered her books, parchments, quill, wand, and inkbottle, and almost ran down the stairs, not bothering to knock on the seventh-year girls dormitory door like she usually did. She wanted this time with Harry alone.

Setting her things down on a couch, she tucked her wand into the waistband of her skirt, and then dashed up the stairs leading towards the boy's dormitory, excitement starting to bubble in her veins. Stealthily creeping down the hallway, she wasn't surprised to find the doorknob twisted easily in her hand. Withdrawing her wand, she whispered a silencing spell on the door. Opening the door, she nodded in satisfaction to herself when there was no sound to disturb the boys' slumber. Neville was snoring lightly while Dean tossed restlessly in his bed. A predatory smile was curving her lips as she crept towards Harry's bed. She still had her wand out and muttered another spell - a freezing spell on Harry's mattress. Opening the drapes, she crawled carefully onto his bed, allowing satisfaction to creep into her mind for another well-done job when it didn't move under her weight. Once she had positioned herself comfortably, she breathed an almost silent "Finite Incantatem" on the mattress.

She smiled. Harry slept on. She felt almost guilty about waking him up like this when she knew that he needed his rest, but she knew somehow that he wouldn't mind. He shifted a bit in his dream, moving his arm outward from his body, knocking it solidly into her thigh. His green eyes snapped open immediately and he drew in a deep breath to do - something, but she never gave him a chance. Framing his face in her hands, she brought her lips into contact with his, eagerly delving into his mouth with her tongue.

She could feel the instant relaxation of his body before he responded eagerly to her kiss. He threaded his hands through her hair, bringing her down even further, until her comfortable position was no longer so comfortable. She was faced with two options - break the kiss, something that didn't appeal to her at the moment, or she could relax her body and roll off to Harry's side.

She relaxed her body against his and felt a strong jolt. They fit together perfectly - in every way. Her breasts were pressing against his chest, and she could feel her nipples harden at the contact. Her stomach was pressed against his, and she felt something quite hard against it. It took her a moment to realize that it was Harry. Her soft whimper was lost in his mouth, but the instinctive roll of her hips was not missed at all. She knew that Harry was a male, and therefore got erections - but it still surprised her to *feel* it - as if feeling made it much more real.

Morning erections, her logical mind provided. She had read about it somewhere in a Muggle fashion magazine.

Didn't matter what it was or if she caused it - she couldn't think anymore with Harry plundering her mouth like a pirate looking for buried treasure. When had her kiss turned into his? Moving instinctively against him, she felt one of his hands move from her hair, all the way down her back until it crept closer and closer to her arse, as if Harry were asking silent permission to touch her where friends never touched. Lightly touching the tip of her tongue to the roof of his mouth, she felt her lips curve as it sent a shudder through his body. Pulling back, she wasn't surprised at their harsh breathing, the only sound to reach their ears inside the closed curtains of Harry's bed. Neville was still snoring lightly, and Dean was still tossing, and they assumed, that Seamus and Ron were still peacefully asleep, no one the wiser about their early-morning snog session. She knew logically, that she should get up, leave Harry to wake the others while she woke the girls up, but she felt far too comfortable to move. She was still pressed quite intimately against Harry, her legs resting on either side of his, her hands tangled in his always-messy black hair while his rested on the small of her back, one occasionally slipping down to caress her arse, and she could still feel his arousal stiff against her stomach.

It surprised her - but at the same time it didn't - that he was so comfortable in her knowing just how much she affected him. It was only fair, she decided. He could probably still feel her nipples against his broad - when did it get that way? - chest.

"Hermione," he whispered, a wealth of emotion trapped in the four syllables of her name.

She shivered, knowing that they were standing in a precarious situation. They couldn't go back to being 'just friends,' but at the same time, their relationship was taking a decidedly adult turn. Were they ready for that? Could they ever be ready? They stared into each other's eyes for a long time, discerning truths, discarding fears, until their lips met once more - not part of the game, but in a meeting of two decisions to see where their road was leading them.

They weren't breathing hard when they broke off from this kiss, but they were smiling.

She stretched languorously, savoring the feel of Harry under her, still hard. "What time is it?" she whispered.

His hand moved the curtain aside slightly so he could see his clock. "Six-thirty-four," he told her.

Her eyes opened wide. "I was by your bedside by five-fifty-seven."

He looked quite smug. "Time well, spent, I say."

"Breakfast is going to be served in half an hour!" she exclaimed quietly.

"I thought it already had been."

"Letch," she mumbled affectionately before sliding off him. He nearly groaned with the loss of contact. "Wake everyone up. I'll be downstairs waiting," she ordered him before kissing him briefly on the lips and slipping back out the door.

Sighing heavily, he groaned as he sat up, his body stiff - in more ways than one. He stretched once, and then whistled sharply through his teeth, having learned that as a protection device from his cousin. If teachers were looking, Dudley wouldn't dare try and hit him. He could hear the sounds of four other boys startled rudely from sleep and smiled. Ron poked his head out of the curtains, more than a little disgruntled.

Harry shrugged his shoulders innocently. "Hermione says we must study, therefore we study."

Both Ron and Dean, who had also woken up enough to also poke his head out of the curtains, looked ready to argue for a moment before they realized that the NEWTs were a mere two days away, and they still had more to study. Grumbling a little, they also sat up in bed before moving to prod Neville and the sleeping log that was Seamus into getting up for the day.

"I'm going to take a shower," he announced to the others, who were still trying to wake up. A very *cold* shower, he mentally corrected.

Much later that night, past the time Neville had finally memorized some tricky Potions, past a trip into Hogsmeade, all of the seventh-years were practically collapsed against the couches near the fire, which was blowing a slight draft of cool air. Yawning mightily, Parvati was the first to bid the others goodnight and wearily climb the stairs to the seventh-years' dormitory. After that, every five to fifteen minutes, one or two of the others would bid goodnight to the others and go to bed. Only Harry and Hermione were still infused with any energy at all. Harry had delivered a return kiss on her when he came down in the morning, she retaliated in Hogsmeade, and he had kissed her just after dinner - leaving her breathless and wanting so much more than just a kiss and a caress. She figured that she might as well head to her room before she got too tempted in her semi-sleepy state that she just started ripping Harry's clothes off right there in the middle of the common room, and stood.

"Headed to bed?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. It was a good excuse as any.

Harry rose as well. "I'll walk you up."

She wanted to protest - to say that she was a big girl, that she could walk up some stairs by herself, that he had best not, otherwise she wouldn't be responsible for her actions - but nothing came out of her mouth. He took her silence as affirmation and rested his hand on the small of her back, leading her up the stairs, up to what they were both craving. He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes and saw her doing the same. Stopping suddenly, he turned to face her fully.

"Hermione, if you don't want anything to happen, you'd best tell me to sod off right now, because if I do make it upstairs with you, Merlin knows something *will* happen."

She looked into his eyes, those brilliant green orbs, and knew that she couldn't - wouldn't - go back on the understanding they had come to in the morning. Reaching up, she wound her arms around his shoulders and settled her lips against his. Their mouths immediately opened for each other, tasting, remembering, understanding.

Neither one of them knew how they made it upstairs to Hermione's dormitory without knowing, but sure as anything, they were standing right there in front of her door. His eyes made it plain to her that she could go inside and close the door and let their game continue on as it had been, but she stubbornly held the door open for him. When he didn't move fast enough, her hand reached out and grabbed a hold of his shirt, dragging him inside. Fusing their mouths together as the door shut behind them, hands roamed over broad planes of backs, over hips, up backs, around arses, pulling, tugging each other closer. Her hands reached for the hem of his old t-shirt and dived under it, relishing the contact of skin against skin. He returned the favor by burying his hands underneath her shirt as well. Running her hands up, a stab of desire nearly sent her to her knees as Harry's hands faithfully followed.

Breaking off their kiss, she turned her hands around and dragged the shirt up. Harry obliged her by removing his hands from her, helping her get the shirt off his body faster. Once it had been tossed to the floor, he quickly divested her of her shirt, and then fumbled shortly with the back closure of her bra. As soon as the closure was snapped open, Hermione let the garment slip from her shoulders.

Harry breathed a reverent sigh as he reached up to cup her breasts in his hands. "So beautiful, Hermione."

A slight blush stained her cheeks. Then a shiver wracked her body as his thumbs brushed over her nipples, causing them to harden even more in his hands. Her thumbs returned the favor, rejoicing in the hitch of his breath. He lowered his mouth to capture one of her breasts in his mouth. Her head tipped back and a moan escaped her throat at the first touch of his hot mouth against her skin. Her back arched, offering more of herself to him while her hands pulled him closer to her.

Somehow, between kisses and caresses, they managed to divest themselves of his trousers and her skirt, leaving them clad in only green boxers and white cotton knickers. Hermione trailed her hand down Harry's chest, down his stomach, in past the waistband of his boxers until she wrapped her hand around his arousal. She blinked, the mood of the moment interrupted. Good Lord, that was supposed to *fit?* A part of her mind was in disbelief that such a thing was possible. Another part was so far gone with lust, it didn't care. And the logical part of her mind was curiously silent.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?" His green eyes, darkened with desire, opened.

"That," a squeeze of her hand that had Harry drawing in breath sharply told him what *that* she was referring to, "will fit? I know that it's supposed to be physically possible, but it just doesn't seem-"

He interrupted her with a long, passionate kiss. Pulling her close as he broke the kiss, he whispered in her ear. "We fit, Hermione. We fit."

Her soft brown eyes were nearly black when she gazed up at him. "We fit," she whispered back, affirmation.

With that, it was a struggle to get their last remaining clothes off. But finally, they were skin to skin, not a stitch of clothing between the utter perfection of their bodies pressed together. Male. Female. Hard angles. Soft curves. Green eyes staring into brown.

"Bed," he said, his voice a near growl.

Hermione nodded and backed up, but did not lie down on her bed. Instead, she regained enough presence of mind away from Harry to grab her wand and mutter a quick silencing charm on the room. Setting her wand back down on the nightstand, she shrieked when he wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her down on the bed with him. He rolled on top of her, resting between her thighs, but she pushed at his chest.

He looked quite confused at her sudden change.

"My turn," she explained.

One of his famous ear-to-ear grins stretched at his mouth. Rolling over, he looked quite amused as Hermione crawled on top of him, her breasts ever so slightly brushing against his chest with each movement of her body. It was torture, seeing, *feeling* her body hover over his, waiting for the inevitable contact.

Hermione stared down at him wonderingly. Her blood was boiling within her body, the ever-present ache in her stomach was tighter, and there was an even larger ache between her thighs. She knew what to do - but didn't. Looking up into his eyes, it was no longer a matter of their game, but a mutual effort. He held himself steady while Hermione gently pressed down onto him, both of them gasping at the first contact of their heated flesh. Their intoxicating eye contact proved to be a powerful aphrodisiac as Hermione lowered herself, inch by agonizing inch down onto Harry, welcoming him into her body, into her mind, into her soul. Her breath came in sharp pants as she stopped frequently to let herself adjust to the gentle invasion. Harry had his hands fisted in the sheets, his eyes tightly screwed shut, the muscles in his stomach standing out in sharp relief as he forced himself not to let go of the tiny shred of self-control he had left and simply thrust up into her until he was buried to the hilt in her. She stopped when she felt a resistance to going further and bit her lip. She knew that the next part would hurt, but with one look at Harry below her, his eyes tightly shut, unburdened by glasses - they were taken off somehow, though she couldn't remember how - and his hands fisted in her sheets, she knew that it was more than worth a little pain. Taking a deep breath, she rose up a little, and then rolled her hips down quickly. She felt the resistance give way and low, painful moan worked its way free of her throat.

Harry nearly lost it when she slammed herself down onto him. She was so tight, so hot, so wet, it nearly made him surrender to the intense pleasure right then. Pulling up every disgusting though he could think of - from Dudley in a purple tutu prancing around, to Snape dancing the can-can - he managed to calm his body down to a manageable level. Opening his eyes, he felt his heart burst when he met her brown ones. One tiny tear had trickled out of her eye and traveled down her perfect cheek. Reaching up his hand, he wiped it away with his thumb, overcome by a wave of tenderness. She smiled a bit.

"It fits," she whispered, catching her breath when his hips moved upwards a little. "Oh God, does it fit." Her breathy moan touched the both of them - the pleasure taking place of the pain. She raised herself up, and then came slowly back down, experimenting. She did that a couple of more times before Harry felt his control start to slip out of his grasp.

"Hermione," he moaned, to her delight.

"Yes."

And with that, they moved together, rising and falling, moans mingling, pleasure building as Harry slipped in and out of her. It wasn't by all means perfect, it was a rough draft of the perfection they intended to spend the rest of their lives working towards, and they felt their climaxes approach far too soon. Hermione fell forward, her breath now coming out as a continual whimper against Harry's skin - her body felt like it was on fire, like it was racing towards a destination she did not know. There was a great stillness within her just before the stars exploded in her mind and she crested, calling Harry's name. She vaguely heard him calling hers as he went over the edge with her. She could feel him with her, in a secret spot of the universe only lovers could share, cradling her body against his.

As they both came back to earth, they realized that they were both shaking, from remembered pleasure, understanding, and most of all, love.

He nuzzled the top of her brown hair and placed a kiss on her head. Next time would be his turn, and he knew that there would indeed be a next time.

"Harry?" "Hermione?" They spoke at once, and then laughed a little. The shared laughter did away with any of the awkwardness that either of them might have been feeling. Their eyes met, and they knew, but still, they wanted the words said.

On an unspoken count, they said the words. "I love you."

Kissing once more, Harry slipped out of her body and spooned up against her back, content with the world as it was. Next time would come soon enough.


End file.
